Be ready for this
movie's intensity. Its characters accept multiple roles without abandoning
individual agendas. When the emperor (Jiang Wen) drags his daughter's
lover to be killed, the men remain locked in a death struggle. Two opposing
geniuses meet here -- and neither can destroy the other without sacrificing
all he holds "everlasting, immortal".

Sex also broadcasts all its steam and roar here in a fresh experience.
The camera makes us participants, not voyeurs. We see the lovers' heads
(Xu Qing, Ge You) coming at us, as we must if we identify with either
one. Visually, the heads remain an interlocked double. Coupling also creates
political ramifications, meaning unification, not random bounce and blow.

This film achieves
pure inevitability. We follow the rise of China's first emperor, Ying
Zheng, as a literate narrative. When banners rise in battle, we track
imperial commands from utterance to consequence. With his every decision
-- "When I smile, everyone smiles" -- we witness what can only be fateful
words. This kind of economy occurs worlds away, in every sense, from high-tech
fantasy.

This epic drama seems
to exist because it MUST. It exalts lessons upon which human survival
depends. It lets the dead talk to the living -- and not one of its dead-on
speeches comes from a robot, a Shallow Hal, or a freak. It squanders no
technology. It wastes no time. In other words, it originates in a highly
disciplined, literate culture that bears no kinship to any society fixated
on the frivolous.

Parallels breed familiar
phases, however, marking the mythical founding of states both ancient
and modern. To earn his place in our remembrance, Ying Zheng unifies his
nation. Like King Arthur hacking away at Romans in Le Morte D'Artur
(Everyman's Library: Book V, pages 130-51), this Chinese monarch obliterates
all challengers. Can it be accidental that, although their political systems
vary, red streams from American, British, Russian, Chinese, and Iraqi
flags alike?

Claiming no fondness
for history, director Zhou Xiaowen confessed to Augusta Palmer on indieWire
that his initial purpose for making the film lay in fascination with Chinese
archeology. In addition, he explained:

The other [reason
he made the film] is that when I was growing up and becoming a filmmaker
I found that everybody wanted to control others' souls, minds and
spirits. Of course, it's impossible; but year after year everyone
wants to do it. The first emperor wanted to do it. He had the most
power at that time. Many Chinese rulers have wanted to do this --
for generation after generation. …That is very interesting to me.
So the theme is that nobody's mind can be controlled. (The full text
of the interview can be found at http://www.indiewire.com/people/int_Zhou_Ziaowen_981217.html.)

In this story, art
derives from longing -- and pain -- that never surrenders. Even a national
anthem celebrates a romance that cuts the imperial heart to the quick.
Every sound sensitizes our ears to hearing the dead wail from under the
ground. We may think they lie buried -- and out of sight. In China, it
seems, the dead know how to speak.